Tabula Rasa
by b-mystique
Summary: He found it ironic that they they're partners and yet he never felt so distant from her. Their relationship was easy. Indescribable. Layered. It didn't take work or thought. It just…was. He never realized how much she kept him on solid ground. He never realized it until he felt her slipping away. "Do you think it's possible to miss something that's right in front of you?" S3 1shot


_**A/N:**__ On the long list of things I should be doing, writing this isn't one of them. I'm swamped, and I really, really, really shouldn't have the time to breathe let alone be indulging in this. I just shouldn't. Just like the collective efforts of a friend of mine and Orlando Jones with his damn Sleepy Hollow fangirling shouldn't be tempting me to join Tumblr, but I'll probably cave and do that too. Fingers crossed that I can hold out for another month or so when things aren't as hectic…maybe more stories then as well. Apparently this is my 40th. I may actually have to consider myself a writer if I have 40 stories. O.o_

_So…Suits. It's been a while. I have not been the biggest fan of season 3. In fact, depending on how the back half of the season goes, I'd love to pretend as though most of season 3 didn't even happen. Nevertheless this is inspired by the season. Forgive me, I feel a bit rusty._

_**Disclaimer:**__ Suits and its characters do not belong to me. I'd love to borrow them and play with them for a little bit though. Unbetaed so errors are my own. Honest reviews are always welcomed. _

~O~

The lights were dim as Harvey stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby. The usual hustle and bustle that was prevalent in the building containing Pearson Specter and countless of other establishments early in the mornings and throughout the days was practically desolate. Save for the security guard at the front desk whom Harvey acknowledged with a curt nod and a genuine smile.

He stalled when he looked up and seen Jessica hovering near the glass doors. She stood tall and statuesque, her form fitting black dress hugging her curves almost seductively. Black lace covered the spans of her back, exposing smooth caramel skin beneath the unique patterns. Her hair was swept up in some intricate updo baring her long dancer's neck. He moved closer, sidling up beside her and noticing the rather impatient look that was on her face. He could see her visibly stiffen when stopped beside her, staring out the window at the light drizzle, raindrops beating against the pavement.

"Jessica," he said quietly in acknowledgment.

"Harvey," she returned coolly. She glanced at him and smirked but it wasn't with the ease that he had grown so used to over the years.

"Town car?" he queried nodding out the window at the traffic whizzing by.

"Hmm..." she responded. She rubbed her arms to smooth over the goose-bumps and he fought off some instinctual urge to drape his jacket over her.

"I never pegged you for the type to leave before seven," he said with a smirk. He leaned forward in an effort to meet her eyes but she averted them, her deep brown orbs fixated on whatever she found more fascinating than him outside the window.

"One day you'll learn not to have me pegged, kid," she quipped. "I'm full of surprises." Her eyes met his this time, the confident air that he loved and respected emitting from her in full force. Thrumming and encasing them every bit as much as the sweet smell of her perfume. She winked at him and her lip pulled up in a slight smile.

"True," he concurred, he shoved his hands into his pockets as his eyes bored into hers. "Jessica Pearson, enigmatic creature that you are, I've learned to expect the unexpected."

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I guess you can say I've learned to expect the unexpected too."

He felt himself stiffen at her words, how stilted they came out, the hint of sadness in them, anger too. He felt the general unease that he had come to feel every single time he found himself in her vicinity these days. She must have sensed it too. She cleared her throat and flashed her brightest smile, the one she fakes, the one that didn't make her eyes light up or crinkle in the corners. The one she used on select clients or Louis when she's trying to appease him. The one she never used to use on him. She blinked at him before turning away, staring out the window again. An almost unbearable silence settled over them and he felt himself shifting and squirming under its weight.

This wasn't them. This wasn't how they operated or interacted. They never required this much work. They used to be easy; in fact, it was one of the easiest relationships he ever had. No muss. No fuss. Indescribable in its nature, layered as it was, but easy nonetheless. It didn't take work or much thought. It just…was. But these days he found himself in a relationship that was anything but. It was as though his anchor was within reach; battered, tarnished, rusted even, but within reach, and yet he just couldn't tether himself to it. It was within his sight and yet he just couldn't grasp it. He never realized how much she kept him on solid ground. He never realized it until he felt her slipping away.

He found it ironic that they they're officially partners, equals, and yet he never felt so distant from her before. They were strangers, familiar strangers. In a move that should have had them closer than ever, orbiting around one another in that inexplicable way that they do. Finishing each other's thoughts and sentences, working together like two pieces of a well-practiced machine. A partnership should have been their ideal outcome. They were nothing if not in sync, at least, they used to be, before Darby, before Stephen, before Hardman, and if he's willing, truly willing to admit it to himself, before Mike. They should be invincible, unstoppable, dynamic duo that they were, they should be great, two halves of a whole, and they should fit. Instead they're bound by uncertainty and broken trust, their partnership tenuous; their friendship perched precariously on the line between unshakeable and irrevocably shattered.

He swallowed thickly as he took in her profile, his dark eyes burned into the side of her face as he willed her to look at him, listen, and truly hear the rare moment of sheer vulnerability on the verge of tumbling from his lips. As if the universe was mocking the disarray of their relationship, as if confirming just how disconnected they had become…she doesn't. His heart dropped and suddenly he's five year old again, desperately willing his mother to see how in pain he is, silently pleading that she notice him, _see_ him, hear him, _love_ him. He shifted again, turning to face Jessica his body pressed against the window, head canted to the side. He cleared his throat in one last ditch effort to catch her eye. It worked that time.

"Is it possible," he started; his voice is far too cautious and reluctant. Her eyes widened as she stared at him intently. Her face was indiscernible but the inquisitive glint in her eye gave him the smallest glimmer of hope that maybe, maybe, they were still connected somehow. Maybe their connection didn't dissipate into oblivion; maybe it lied dormant, and waiting for something to awaken it again… put them back on track. "Do you think it's possible to miss something that's right in front of you?"

She stared at him with intense, discerning eyes and a knowing expression. She always had a way of seeing through him. It was something they both possessed and yet avoided…an innate, intrinsic ability to tear through a person layer by layer until there was nothing left but a soul bare and exposed…vulnerable. No, it was much easier to pick out what was most useful for the time and fight against really seeing anything else. It was much easier hiding behind sarcasm and humor, arrogance and indifference. To most they appeared as if they didn't care at all, when in actuality they risked caring too much. She stared at him like a kindred soul seeking…what, he wasn't exactly sure. She studied him and for the first time in a while he felt like he didn't have to elaborate. He was missing something that was right there, he was missing _someone_ that was right there. He missed her. He missed one of a handful of a people who understood him so deeply and whom he didn't successfully push away no matter how much he tried. He missed his mentor. He missed his friend. He missed their partnership and their plotting. He missed baseball games and drinks, dinners and movies, galas, events, and the ridiculous schmoozing. He missed barbs and bantering, inside jokes and quips, movie quotes and chess. He missed the days when they were more than just forged allies and brothers at arms fighting against the latest threat and overcoming the latest obstacle. But he'd even settle for that. He'd gladly welcome whatever threat or force that would plague them next, because without a common goal or cause bringing them together to fight back to back, side to side, they were two ships in the night, passing one another and only stopping when it was necessary.

Her penetrating gaze and the long silence between them discomfited him. He took a step forward to even the playing field, throw her off and shift the focus, a distraction. She didn't bite, at least he didn't notice if she did. She nearly blinked at him and shook her head slightly.

"I thought you said you forgave me," he whispered, his eyes probing hers.

"I did," she said with a hint of exasperation that made the corners of his mouth tug up in a slight and relieved smile. Exasperation was familiar. Exasperation, irritation, amusement, those were all familiar between them. "I do," she amended with a slight smile of her own. It still didn't meet her eyes.

He rolled his lips between his teeth and narrowed his eyes at her as he tried his best to figure out what to say next.

"I forgive you for Mike. I forgive you for Hardman. I forgive you for making moves against me. I forgive you for almost dethroning me, so to speak. I forgive you for Scottie…"

He frowned at the last one, his mouth forming an 'o' as the question he wanted to ask danced on his tongue. She held her hand up and he shut his mouth promptly for once attempting to hear her out.

"You hired her without consulting me. It's…it's one of the first decisions you made as a partner…always the impulsive one never looking before you leap. It's…it's difficult for me to not see that as foreshadowing for ominous times to come. You can't help yourself." Her eyes flickered outside before she met his again. "Undermining my authority…or just, undermining me without ever really realizing it."

The part of him that was ready to dismiss the small deed as meaningless and even tease her about loving and respecting Scottie was quelled by an overwhelming realization and self-awareness coupled with an unspoken vow to hear her through.

She chuckled darkly to herself, and he knew that she was scoffing at an attempt to mask a genuine hurt. "It will_ not_ keep happening Harvey. I won't allow it. I'm doing you the courtesy of telling you upfront and to your face right now," she said firmly as her eyes bored into his with all the strength and power that she possessed.

He swallowed thickly and nodded his head in acknowledgment, his eyes darting down to his feet before meeting hers again, rightfully abashed.

"I forgive you Harvey. I do. I can't forget though, and you can't expect me to forget or get over everything so easily. I'm trying, but it's something that will take time." She sighed as she studied him again.

"It's as though you expect me to forgive you… because you stopped yourself just before cutting me off at the knees. It's as if you expect me to be thankful and get over it with ease because even though you actively thought about and proceeded to screw me over you didn't in the end. When it comes to us, Harvey, the end doesn't justify the means."

She rubbed at her forehead as if willing a pending migraine to go away and summoning up the willpower to face him again. "You never get that. You never seem to grasp that concept that the things you do to…me are not acceptable just because it may all work out in the end."

He nodded his head at her, his heart clenching painfully, breath constricting in his chest for reasons he couldn't quite figure out. He wanted to reach out and smooth the worry lines that creased her forehead, he wanted to say something that would somehow make up for all of it, do something, extend something that would somehow mend them. He wanted to fix it. He was a fixer after all, born and bred. He wanted to fix what was cracked and broken between them but he didn't quite know how, because sweeping it under the rug and pretending like it didn't happen apparently wouldn't work this time. He worked his jaw a few times eyes shifting around the room before meeting hers again as he tried to work through what he wanted to say or do next.

"I'm…I'm sorry, Jess," he said sincerely, it came out choked; the words that used to feel so foreign on his lips were seemingly prevalent these days.

"I know," she said warmly, she gave him a bit of smile, and this time it seemed more genuine, more her. "Twice in a month I get an apology from the great Harvey Specter. You make a habit out of this and I won't be able to recognize you."

He couldn't bring himself to acknowledge her strained attempt at a joke.

"It's difficult…apologizing. Even when it's someone you…love and respect," he said after a brief pause. "We're friends, Jess. We're family. I don't want you to feel like…like I didn't care about you. Like I don't care about you…I just want us to…" he let his voice drift off as he gestured with his hands awkwardly silently imploring her to comprehend what he was trying but failing to express.

She nodded in understanding.

"We can't go back, Harvey. We can only go forward. There is no clean slate. I don't…we don't exactly trust each other the way that we used to, and that's something that we will have to work on. It'll just take some-"

"Time." He finished for her.

He did his best to mask his disappointment and the unsettled feeling that came with not getting the response he expected. Relationships, no matter the nature, were like a minefield, he more often than not found himself stepping in all the wrong places. It's why he spent a lifetime avoiding them all together. All sense of obligation and expectation is easily avoided when you actively avoid making connections. Yet he found himself juggling many complicated bonds in his life, Donna, Scottie, Mike, Jessica, even Louis. He glanced at Jessica and found her already staring at him with her trademark raised brow. He bumped into her gently, his shoulder hitting hers…

"You weren't wearing that earlier. I thought I was the only one to keep spare suits in my office."

"You must have forgotten who taught you to do that," she scoffed, bumping him back.

"I never forget…" he said quietly. He stared at her until she looked away. "You always underestimate my powers of observation."

"No, I question your observational skills in regards to fashion. There's a difference."

"Hey, you're the one who said-"

"Appearances matter. Yeah, I know. I didn't expect you to take that one so seriously, and I'm genuinely surprised that something I taught you actually stuck," she chuckled with that fondness that she had whenever they spoke of their long and complicated past.

"Hey, most things stuck," he contested lightly. He smiled at her dubious expression and scoff. "You look…"

"Categorically stunning?" She supplied with a raised brow.

"That was one of my better ones," he quipped. "But yeah."

His black town-car finally pulled up in front of the building and he was hit with a sudden wave of anticipation. "You game for dinner and drinks at that Italian spot?" He found himself holding his breath as he awaited her answer. Hoping for an opportunity to extend the familiarity and ease that they found themselves in.

"Not tonight," she said still laughing softly from something prior.

"Okay," he responded after a beat. His face fell but he attempted his Specter smirk and practiced indifference to cover his genuine disappointment. Jessica being Jessica didn't buy it. He felt her hand on his forearm, a gentle squeeze before she released it again and it fell awkwardly to her side.

"I have a date." She said it nonchalantly but her piercing eyes told him that she was gauging his reaction. She was genuinely trying to put him at ease. He figured, maybe she wasn't blowing him off after all. "A real one," she amended as a fleeting thought of Zane more or less crossed her mind.

He was taken aback by her candor. As close as they could be they never really delved too much into each other's personal lives and romantic dalliances and entanglements. They danced around that particular level of intimacy like a Lambada…forbidden territory never to be crossed. An unspoken agreement set in stone and only recently being poked, prodded, and chipped away at.

"He's a lucky guy," he said after a beat. He couldn't help his eyes from roaming over his friend, appraising her, before meeting her gaze. "Take mine," he said softly gesturing towards the car outside. "I'm not in a hurry."

She looked at him, mouth pursed as if contemplating whether or not she would argue with him, but then to his surprise, she didn't. She merely nodded in thanks and walked past him, the clicking of her heels a cacophony…the lingering scent of her perfume a caress.

"Jess…" he found himself calling out to her, he didn't move from his place in front of the window, his hands still tucked in his pockets, but he turned his head in her direction.

She was stone-still posed in front of the glass door, hand resting upon the handle…looking at him patiently but quizzically. He wanted to ask her not to go. He wanted her to take him up on his offer as if one dinner could salvage them, as if drinks could erase all the pain, distrust, betrayal and hurt, as if all the answers of their problems could be found in the words of the lyrics playing overhead while they shared an appetizer and exchanged snarky banter. He wanted to tell her that he missed her. He truly, sincerely, genuinely missed her. And that it scared him that he cared, but nothing was more terrifying than losing the few people that he cared about, and she was one of them. He wanted to tell her that he valued her, even though he hadn't quite figured out how to show it yet. He wanted to tell her that he'd give her the time.

He wanted to say so many things that clawed beneath the surface of his stoicism and bravado, but he's programmed for witty remarks and sardonic retorts. He's programmed for cocky quips and ambiguous threats. He's programmed for reciting carefully crafted legal arguments and succinct bouts of bullshit. He isn't wired for spouting unfiltered and honest words tapped from emotions and feelings involving the heart and the soul.

"Have fun." He says halfheartedly. Her face remained unchanged but there was puzzlement in her eyes as she tore her eyes away from his and headed out the door. He watched the car disappear down the street and he sighed.

~O~


End file.
